This Isn't As Totally Awesome
by TheUltimateFangirl2020
Summary: Hogwarts- if you ask Harry, Ron, or Hermione, they will most likely say Hogwarts was an overall good experience- minus the deadly aspect to it. What they won't mention was the time when Harry broke down, the constant pressure Ron put himself under, and the time Hermione had- well, you get the idea. A series of times when Hogwarts wasn't completely totally awesome. Rated T incase.
1. Harry- Year 5

**During year 5...**

* * *

Harry Potter, 5th year Gryffindor student, was stressed out for reasons other weren't. Sure, the O.W.L.'s were coming up and Umbridge decided to be something most students (and teachers) would be punished for saying. In fact, several (Lee Jordan) already had.

Harry had been up for what seemed like hours, trying to make himself remember the many different requirements for each subject. He had a headache- one that was completely unrelated to his scar, for once.

Rubbing his eyes, he wondered what time it was. Glancing down at his wrist- as if he expected to see a watch there, he groaned. His eyes wanted to close- he was exhausted. Ron had fallen asleep in the chair next to him, his book laying on the floor, open to a random page. Hermione had somehow wandered back upstairs before falling asleep and no one else was in the common room. Harry envied her- he didn't know if he could make it halfway up the stairs. His eyes swimming, he left himself drift off to sleep, leaving the stress stored inside him for a later time.

* * *

When he woke up again, it was to a loud storm of Gryffindor's coming down the stairs. Harry jerked awake, feeling annoyed but grateful. It looked as though Ron had been woken up too, because he seemed to be on the verge of giving one or two of them a talk on how silence was appreciated.

Hermione ran down the stairs, looking exhausted. She paused as she looked at Harry. "You two look awful."

Harry rubbed his eyes, looking down blurring at the book that had fallen out of his lap. Grabbing it and shoving it into his bag, Harry sighed. "Come on, we should... Go eat, or something..."

Walking down to the Great Hall, Harry tried to ignore all the people staring. He heard Malfoy start to tell a very animate- and apparently very funny- story. He took another breath, trying to calm himself down. He didn't want to snap again, like he had during Umbridge's class several times. His eyes fell onto his right hand, where a scar was. _I must not tell lies_ , in his handwriting and everything.

Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of him a few minutes later. The breakfast in front of Harry looked unappealing and- in fact- seemed to make him sick to his stomach.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked, looking over at him. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine." Harry lied, looking down in his bag, pretending to be trying to find his schedule. "Do you know what class-"

"Care of Magical Creatures." Hermione said at once.

At least they'd get to see Hagrid- a bruised and bloodied Hagrid, but Hagrid none the same. Harry had begun to savor every Care of Magical Creatures class- even if he didn't entirely enjoy the lessons. It could be the last taught by Hagrid, seeing as Umbridge was probably going to put him on probation at day now.

As they walked down to Hagrid's Hut, they found themselves being trailed by Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Harry couldn't help but overhear Malfoy talking to them, seeing as he was talking rather loudly.

"You know, I think it's for the best that that oaf we call a teacher is going to go onto probation. He's not even a proper teacher- being half-giant and all. Also, he was expelled in his third year, so why should he even be allowed to teach?"

Harry felt himself shaking with unspoken rage. Hermione and Ron exchanged glanced, getting closer to either side of him, in case they had to hold him back. Harry wished they wouldn't- it only made it worse.

"You see, father doesn't think he should be teacher either- apparently, many of the other students have complained to their parents also." Malfoy kept talking in his drawling voice. "God, this place is really going to the dogs."

Harry took another shaky breath as they reached Hagrid's Hut. Hagrid was waiting, another fresh bruise added to his face. He smiled down at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "'Ello you three."

"Hey Hagrid." They said in unison.

"You three look tired." He noted.

"We were studying-" Hermione started, but Hagrid laughed.

"I figured."

Malfoy's voice started talking loudly again. It was as if he was trying to have a private conversation with Crabbe and Goyle, sharing his opinions, but he did it loud enough so everyone that was there could hear him.

"Or rather, that filthy mudblood was doing all the work for little Weaselbee and Potty over there. You know, I'm surprise the teachers haven't figured it out that some people don't do any work here at all. Or their parents haven't either- surely Weasley's dear mummy would be all over him, scolding him about how he would need to do better," Ron's ears went bright red and he looked about as mad at Harry felt, "And then Potters- oh wait..."

Harry snapped, whirling around, his wand pulled out of his pocket as he stalked towards Malfoy. "Say that again Malfoy?" Harry growled, his wand pointed at the Slytherin's face. He faintly heard Hermione say, " _Harry!_ "

Malfoy widened his eyes. "Quick temper today, huh Potter?"

Harry was all but shaking with anger. He felt Ron's hand on his shoulder and let himself be pulled back away from Malfoy. He didn't put his wand away, but he lowered it.

"Harry, you can't do that." Hermione said hurriedly, although she sounded pretty mad also. "If Umbridge had seen you-"

"Yeah, I'd have to cut my hand open again, wouldn't I?" Harry snapped angrily. "So I guess it's just okay for Malfoy to have a go at my parents whenever he wants, is it?"

"No Harry, that's not what I meant!" Hermione started, but Harry shook his head and turned away from her and Ron, waiting for the lesson to start.

* * *

Harry was in no better mood by Defense Against the Dark Arts, which wasn't a good thing. He had barely eaten anything for lunch either, despite Ron and Hermione's suggestions. He had gotten to class early and could tell the other two had hung back to discuss him.

Harry's scar had prickled a little as he entered the room, but he pushed it off as nothing. Reaching down into his bag, he picked up his book and placed it onto his desk. He avoided eye contact with everyone, even Ron and Hermione, who sat down next to him. They didn't say anything as Umbridge walked into the room, smiling at all of them. No one smiled back.

"Now, you shall be reading the next chapter," she said once everyone had filed in, "and there will be no need to talk." She went and sat back down, but Hermione had raised her hand. "Yes Miss Granger?" She said in a clearly annoyed tone.

"I've already finished the book, Professor... So what should I do now?" Hermione asked. The entire class was silent, wondering why she'd bring it back up, seeing as she'd already had this discussion with Umbridge before. Harry felt his hand prickle as he remembered it.

"Well, Miss Granger, I believe, seeing as you have decided to take it upon yourself to go so far ahead, that you think you will receive a special treatment if you keep reminding me about it." Umbridge said, stopping by Hermione's side of the desk she was sharing with Neville. "I do not know why you would think that, but you will not be receiving anything else-"

"No, Professor, I don't think so-" Hermione began.

"You have no raised your hand, Miss Granger," Umbridge said in an even more annoyed tone. "But you will reread the book with the rest of the class, Miss Granger. I do not care if you're familiar with the material, but you will stay with the class and you will not question it or ask to go ahead again-"

Harry exchanged a confused and worried glance with Ron. A teacher saying it wasn't good to go ahead? Granted it was Umbridge...

"- or I will become very upset-"

"Why would you be upset if someone asked to go ahead?" Harry asked before he could stop himself, his annoyance leaking into his tone. "You _are_ a teacher, therefore you should be happy that a student has taken it upon themselves to go ahead-"

"Your hand was not raised." Umbridge said, her eyes widening. "And I do not believe that Miss Granger was trying to take it upon herself to go ahead, I believe that she was asking for permission to try and use magic- which is not what we are here for-"

"We're in a school for magic!" Harry looked up into her eyes, glaring at her. "Hogwarts is a school that teachers magic, so why is it such a bad thing that she wants to try and make sure that she is doing the spell right?!"

"Why would she want to use the spell, if not to jinx peers and not to, dare I say it, teach peers?" She eyes Harry suspiciously. He gazed coolly back at her.

"Oh, I don't know, to make sure that she doesn't _die_ in the near future because of death eaters or, dare I say he's back, Lord Voldemort?!" Harry demanded, his anger getting the best of his yet again.

"I believe," Umbridge said, her voice dripping with anger and annoyance, "that another week of detention is well deserved, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked back down at his book before he could say anything else, making sure that he bit his tongue to shut himself up. Why was it, he asked himself even though he knew the answer, that he always lost his temper in Umbridge's class, or when she was around? It had never happened before this year- but that was because Voldemort was back, anywhere, probably killing and torturing people.

Running a hand through his messy, dark hair, Harry took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. It took him about a minute to realize what he'd just done and what he'd gotten himself into and how he'd have to have his hand cut open yet again, deepening the scar. He sighed annoyingly and forced himself to keep reading.

About halfway through the chapter, his scar prickled uncomfortably again and he gave an unintentional shudder, his hand running over his scar over and over. Ron glanced over at him worriedly and Harry let his hand fall, even though it was getting worse. It was getting impossible to pay attention to the book in front of him.

It throbbed again, as if... Voldemort was torturing someone. Yes, that was definitely it. He was torturing someone. He knew his scar would burn white-hot when he killed, so as long as he was out of the class by then...

Harry kept his eyes on the book, rubbing his forehead in a 'thoughtful' way as he tried to force away the growing pain in his scar. He let his eyes wander and met Ron's gaze. He was still gazing worriedly at him. Harry nodded ever so slightly and Ron's eyes widened. His eyes flitted up to Umbridge, as if telling him to tell her he needed to go to the Hospital Wing.

 _Yeah right..._ Harry thought. _She'd tell me to wait it out and then if I told her it was urgent, she'd probably give me another detention or something._

But his scar was beginning to be unbearable. He bared his teeth, rubbing his forehead more vigorously. He looked up at Ron, who had met his gaze again. And then Ron's face faded, slowly transforming- as if he'd drunk Polyjuice Potion- into Wormtail, who was cowering.

Harry spoke in a high-pitched voice that wasn't his own. "Is it ready, Wormtail?"

"Y-Yes, My Lord..." Wormtail flinched backwards, refusing to meet Harry's gaze.

Harry laughed coldly. "Good... Good... Soon, we will get it, Wormtail- soon it will be ours..." Harry turned back towards where a woman was cowering. Harry raised his wand. "Avada-"

He hadn't even finished the spell when his scar gave a violent, white-hot spasm of pain and Harry was jerked back into his real body. He'd collapsed onto the floor, everyone was talking loudly, worriedly. His scar was almost blinding him with pain, although it was slowly ebbing away until it was just a strong and painful throb. Umbridge barely seemed to notice.

Harry felt sick. His stomach churned as he sat upright, keeping his mouth shut so not to vomit everywhere. Ron and Hermione were on their knees next to him.

"Harry, I reckon you'd better go to the Hospital Wing." Ron said quickly, glancing back to Umbridge. "Miss!" She was silent. "Miss..." She glanced up, annoyed. "Harry... He's-"

"He's not feeling well- I think he needs to go to the Hospital Wing." Hermione finished. "Can we bring him?"

"And why is Mr. Potter not feeling well?" Umbridge asked. Harry knew that wouldn't have been her reaction- thinking it was staged, that Harry was faking to get more people to believe the truth. He didn't say anything.

"He just collapsed, Professor." Hermione said. Ron kept a hand on Harry's back, as if ready to catch him if he collapsed backwards again.

"Oh very well..." Umbridge rolled her eyes. "Don't forget your detention, Potter!" She called as Ron helped Harry upright and Hermione followed, all three of their stuff in her arms.

"What a git..." Ron muttered as Harry's scar gave another painful seer. "Harry-"

He covered his mouth to keep himself from vomiting, but he was unsuccessful and vomited all over the floor. Hermione quickly cleared it up with a spell, but Harry didn't feel better.

"Come on..." Ron said quickly, putting one of his arms around Harry's shoulders to keep him from collapsing again.

They got to the Hospital Wing quickly- despite Harry's feeble protests that he wanted to see McGonagall or Dumbledore- and Madame Pomfrey had quickly grabbed his arm and ushered him onto a bed, ignoring his protests for her to get Dumbledore.

Voldemort was going to get something... And no one would let Dumbledore know.

As soon as Madame Pomfrey left Harry alone with Ron and Hermione- only after what seemed like forever of her worrying about him-, Harry burst out, "Voldemort's after something- he's going to get something... I don't know what. And he's killed someone else..." Harry broke off, suddenly feeling defeated.

Voldemort had killed someone else- he'd ruined another family's lives. Not only that, but he had seemed almost happy. He was going to get something that would probably help him kill Harry and take over the wizarding world. And if Harry couldn't tell Dumbledore, then Voldemort would probably get it. He'd get closer to winning the war.

The defeat seemed to get bigger and bigger inside Harry's chest. Added to the stress and frustration, it was enough to make Harry want to explode.

"...Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked hesitantly. "Are you going to be sick again-... What's the matter?"

Tears had come to Harry's eyes. He couldn't remember a time when he felt so defeated and small, even when he was bullied by Dudley and his gang. 15 years old and he'd already had to save the world multiple times. What did he do to deserve this?! Why did he, of all people, deserve to have all of this going on inside and around him?!

To his horror, the tears started to fall from his eyes, fogging up his glasses. He scrunched up his face in attempt to keep himself from crying, but it didn't work. He slid his hands under his glasses and wiped his eyes, but now that he'd started, he could not stop.

"What's going on?" Ron asked softly as Harry took off his glasses and set them on the table beside him. Harry didn't know what to say- he didn't want to make Ron or Hermione worry about him further, but being silent probably wasn't helping.

"Everything...?" Harry muttered eventually, seeing as that was the appropriate response. He felt a hand that belonged to Ron on his shoulder, trying to figure out what to say. Harry could tell he was just trying to help, but it honestly wasn't doing any good.

"Talk to us, Harry..." Hermione said in the same tone Ron had used. "Please, we just want to help..."

Harry didn't want to tell them. He didn't want them to have to worry about whether or not they could tell him things without he being stressed out about it. Harry felt his scar give another sharp throb and gritted his teeth.

"Well, it's the small fact that Voldemort is back and no one wants to believe it and actually help to find him and kill him. Also, Umbridge keeps making me split open my hand every night and I can't sleep without worrying if I'll wake up and someone else'll be dead. Hagrid's probably on probation, Malfoy's being Malfoy, O.W.L.'s are soon, I feel like I'm being watched and talked about by every damn kid in the school... The only good things are Quidditch and D.A., but now it's just D.A. and I-" Harry didn't realize that he had been crying harder and harder until he sobs interrupted him.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, but said nothing. Ron's hand still on his shoulder, Harry sobbed on.


	2. Ron- Year 4

**During year 4...**

* * *

Ronald Billius Weasley is the 2nd youngest out of 7 and the youngest male out of his entire family. To Harry, it might seem like a blessing to live in such a big family. To Ron, it seems more like a curse.

It seems like everyone- every single member of his family- has done something Ron hasn't, done something that Ron can't hope to achieve. And it's not just his family- it also happens to be his two best friends, Harry freaking Potter and Hermione Granger.

For Bill, it's for getting a job at a Wizard Bank run by Goblins. For Charlie, it's for being such a great Quidditch player. For Percy, it's being able to grow up and become a junior Barty Crouch. For Fred and George, it's for being such a genius and figuring out how to make sweets that can make you ill. For Hermione, it's for being so god damn perfect. And for Harry- well, Harry's Harry. He's the boy who lived, the star Seeker of any team, being famous in every single way- and now, for become the 4rth champion from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. What's that give Ron to be?

So when Harry got picked for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Ron thought he had the right to know how he did it. When he kept telling him otherwise... Well, there was a part of Ron that believed him, but the bigger part of his was jealous and anger.

Not entirely at Harry- more so at himself.

He got up into the common room before everyone else, slamming the door to his dorm behind him, glaring at Harry's bed. Even Harry Potter's bed was better than his- it looked cleaner.

Ron stalked up to his own bed, then looked up at the wall furiously. Marking a spot with his wand, Ron set down the stick of wood and- in a fit of rage- slammed his fist against the wall. Again. And again. And again, until the skin on his knuckles broke and he swore loudly at the now throbbing hand he had.

Sitting down on his bed, he glared down at his hand before finally feeling his anger slowly ebbing away until he was left with this cold, hard feeling of failure and worthlessness.

Would he ever he able to do anything right? Even in his group of friends, he was the stupidest, the least talented by any aspect, least famous...

"Oh yeah, that's me." Ron said aloud, falling backwards he was staring at the top of his bed. "Ron Weasley, Harry Potter's stupid friend."

He took another breath and set his hands behind his head. How was he supposed to try and focus on anything when he knew he wasn't going to be as good as Hermione or Harry or any of his stupidly huge family.

Letting himself go limp for a second, he tried to relax- to calm himself down. But the events that had just happened kept replaying in his head- Dumbledore looking out over the crowd with a piece of parchment in his hand and saying the name.

 _"Harry Potter."_

Ron slammed both his fists into the bed and sat straight up, wincing at his knuckles. Why did everyone have to be so much better than him? Why couldn't he be as good as them? Why?

* * *

When Ron woke up again, his first thought was of Harry Potter and the stupid 4rth champion and this stupid tournament. He got up and dressed quickly, not wanting to face anyone. Before anything, he got down into the bathroom. Taking slow and steady breaths, he looked up at his face in the mirror. He scanned it- going over every detail. His red hair, his mass amount of freckles, his blue eyes...

He sighed, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall. His bag hung loosely over his shoulder and as he let his head up, a bottle of ink, a roll of parchment, and a few quills fell out of his bag. The bottle of ink smashed on the ground, soaking his parchment and quills.

Ron swore again. God, why couldn't he do anything right?! Pulling out his wand, he said, " _Reparo_." The ink bottle mended itself, the ink magically going back into the newly repaired bottle. At least he could do something right...

Leaning down to grab his stuff, he heard someone else come into the bathroom. The someone laughed. "Having fun, Weaselbee?"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy." Ron snapped back as he carefully placed his stuff back into bag.

"Not very friendly, huh Weasley?" Malfoy asked, crossing his arms.

"Just get out of my way." Ron snapped, standing up and pushing the bag's strap over his shoulders.

"Who's got you so riled up? I want to send them flowers-"

Ron pulled out his wand. "Shut. Your. God. Damn. Mouth."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Don't have Potter here to stop you, do you Weasley?"

At the mention of Harry's name, Ron's grip tightened on his wand. "I said shut up."

At that moment, Crabbe and Goyle wandered into the bathroom. The two saw what was happened and Goyle's eyes shrunk into slits. Ron glared around at the three of them.

"Let me out." He snarled, stuffing his wand into his bag before he could tempt himself too much. He started forwards, but Crabbe shoved him backwards with a look of defiance.

"I don't think so..." Malfoy smiled down at him. "I think you ought to learn not to mess with your superiors."

Goyle and Crabbe cracked their knuckles in almost unison. Ron, for the first time since his argument with Harry, felt a different emotion running through his entire body. Fear.

It seemed to happen in slow motion- Crabbe and Goyle exchanged looks, Goyle nodded, then advanced on Ron, who made a feeble attempt to grab his wand out of his bag...

And then Goyle swung his foot backwards and slammed it into Ron's nose.

* * *

Ron didn't go to breakfast after that- he'd gone straight to class. Potions with Slytherins. Lucky him...

Sitting down next to Seamus Finnegan, Ron subconsciously rubbed his eye. He'd much rather be getting Madame Pomfrey to fix his almost-certainly-broken nose, but Snape wouldn't let him go anywhere. And if he'd come in late, Snape would have given him a detention- even if he said he had been in the hospital wing.

He heard Malfoy and the other Slytherin's cheers and taunts from the other side of the room, seeing as Snape wasn't there yet. Ron, for the first time since last night, wasn't feeling angry. He was feeling quite defeated and worthless once again.

He'd just gotten beat up by two Slytherins. How fast was the story going to travel around? How many people would come up and taunt him about it, or ask him if he was okay? Well, it'd be a change for once- people wondering about him rather than wondering about Harry.

Maybe there was a good change to something so bad.

 _No._ Ron shook his head and ignored his headache that wasn't scar-induced- seeing as he didn't _have_ a lightning scar, as everyone seemed to want to point out. _That's stupid._

He took a breath and- ignoring the growling in his stomach- half-listened to Snape explain the lesson he already knew he was going to fail at.

* * *

 **A/N: So yeah... Hi... I feel like Ron would constantly beat himself up about things and put himself under pressure like that, seeing as he has to many people he feels like he needs to live up too.**

 **Also, these will mainly be focusing on Harry, Ron, or Hermione, but there might be a few about Neville or Ginny or Luna or Malfoy (because there are obviously unspoken secrets inside his head) or people like that.**

 **Thank you to anyone who took time to read.**


	3. Hermione- Year 3

**During Year 3...**

* * *

Hermione felt miserable. Not only was she having to turn back time every single day, but she was also certain she was getting a cold. Sniffling, Hermione pulled a sweatshirt around her shoulders. Crookshanks meowed, following the 3rd year as she walked down the steps. No one seemed to notice as she entered the common room, taking her place in the corner of the room with her mass amounts of homework. Coughing into her arm, Hermione flipped open a book and started to read more on Ancient Runes.

Not long after she'd started writing her long essay, Harry and Ron came over to her. Seeing as they didn't have any classes for a while, they were probably going to try and convince Hermione to come with them to go see Hagrid or something. But Hermione couldn't- she had to finish her essay.

However, it's not what they said.

"Hermione, you look terrible." Ron said as a greeting.

"It's nice to see you too, Ronald." Hermione answered.

"What he's trying to say," Harry said quickly, trying to cover up the fact that Ron had just insulted Hermione, "is that you look really sick. We think you should go see Madam Pompfrey."

"I'll be fine." Hermione dismissed them, but they didn't leave.

"Seriously, Hermione, you don't look so good." Ron said again. "You look really sick."

"I'm fine, Ron." Hermione answered again, trying to dismiss them a second time. She really needed to finish her Ancient Runes essay. Harry looked over at Ron, who raised his hands in surrender and walked over towards Fred, George, and Ginny. Harry stayed by Hermione. She looked up, meeting her friends green bespectacled eyes. "I really am alright, Harry."

"But you're not." Harry said, kneeling by her. "You're miserable." He smiled slightly. "Believe me, I know."

Hermione sniffled again- not because she was crying, but because she was really congested. "No, it's just a head cold, Harry. It'll go away eventually."

Harry smiled a little, grabbing the chair on the opposite side of the table and pulling it towards his sick friend. He sat down. "I know, but Madam Pompfrey could help you-"

"It'd take too much time." Hermione protested, looking back at her essay.

"Hermione, I think... You're overworking yourself." Harry said softly, his tone kind and gentle. "I mean, you're taking like a bazillion classes... The least you can do is take 15 minutes to go and take care of yourself."

Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes before looking back up at Harry. "Harry, you don't understand."

"I might not," Harry said softly, "but I do understand that you are sick and refusing to get help."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not like that-"

"That what is it like?"

Hermione was tempted to spill everything- how she was taking her classes, her time-turner, Professor McGonagalls warning- but she couldn't. She'd been told against it so many times... Professor McGonagall was constantly asking her if she'd told anyone. Hermione couldn't directly disobey someone like her Transfiguration professor.

Hermione shook her head, refusing. "It's really complicated."

"I can listen. We have time-"

"No, Harry!" Hermione snapped suddenly, surprising even herself. But the mere mention of time seemed to set her off these days. "You can't listen! Now will you please just leave me alone?!"

Harry silently stood up and walked away, towards Ron. Hermione was left alone, staring down at her parchment, which seemed to be becoming blanker and bigger with every waking second. Hermione felt as though she was never going to finish this stupid essay, let alone the rest of her work...

Hermione let her head fall forwards into her hands and she rubbed her tired eyes, forcing back tears that threatened to break through. For the first time in her entire school career, Hermione was considering giving up classes.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this was a shorter chapter- I couldn't think of how else to continue this... But poor Hermione :(**

 **I just want to say that this is probably going to be updated very infrequently, seeing as I have a _lot_ of other fan fictions that I'm trying to finish up, but I won't forget about this! I love Harry Potter too much to do so! **

**Thanks for reading!**


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